


The Daily Going-Ons of the Arcadia Oaks Animal Rescue & Sanctuary

by im_the_king_of_the_ocean



Series: Ficlet Collections [8]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angor Rot Lives, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet Collection, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Trust Issues, and not always succeeding, but they still don't necessarily trust each other, in a mutually beneficial agreement, strickrot, trying to make things work, what happens when you get two characters with communication issues living together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean
Summary: After lives lived full of conflict, hardship, and strife, Angor Rot and Walter Stricklander just want quiet and peace.  They come to an agreement, buy some land outside of Arcadia, and build an animal sanctuary where they can finally have some peace of mind.Although it may be a while before they actually truly get along, they're both determined to see the effort through.(a collection of short strickrot scenes)





	1. Cat Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as an au in response to an ask on Tumblr, I'm giving this au it's own posting here as I've received another request I want to set in this au, in addition to having an idea for a third scene.
> 
> This original piece was added to my 'Into The Great Shipping Sea' collection, as I didn't think I'd be writing more for Strickrot at the time, but now that I am, pieces related to the ship and this au will solely be posted here instead.

Walter holds out his hand.It’s drizzling.There’s a chill in the air.He’s squatting low to the ground in an uncomfortable position.His leg is cramping.He doesn’t like this.He _really_ doesn’t like this.

But, if he succeeds, it will all be worth it.

He waits.An eternal minute passes.Walter’s ears pick up on a rustling.He doesn’t turn toward it.Quick movements scare them.If they get spooked, they’ll run.So, he waits.

The rustling continues.A paw crunches on dead leaves.Walter sees it out of the corner of his eye.He remains still, one hand holding out the offering of kitty treats above the makeshift bed Angor gave him for this task.He focuses on that.His instincts tell him he has to move, to confront the threat that’s _slowly moving toward him._ He doesn’t listen.He knows this isn’t a threat.Not like the threats from his past, at least.

A silvery-grey striped head emerges from the bushes.Green eyes regard Walter coolly.He waits.The cat limps out into the open.Walter observes, while taking mental notes to tell Angor.It’s her right, hind leg that’s hurt.Blood has dried into her fur.The injury was inflicted a while ago, he’d hazard a guess.Angor would be able to come up with a more accurate estimation after examination.The injury pains the cat, but she can still move around.Attack if need be.He’d learned _that_ the first day he’d try to capture her.

The cat approaches Walter, inspects his offerings.She turns back.He holds in the urge to just grab her and be done with this already.The cat calls out.More rustling.Two kittens emerge from the same bush as their mother, one grey and one tortoiseshell.Together, all three settle in Walter’s makeshift bed.He breathes in relief.

Carefully, cautiously, Walter picks up the bed, loads it into his car, and drives home slowly (as to not disturb the cats too much).

When he reaches the farmhouse, the front door is already open.Angor leans on the doorframe.He watches Walter approach in silence.Then;

“I didn’t think you’d return.”

“I brought new arrivals.”Walter gestures to his car.Now that they’re home, he’ll let Angor handle the cats.

Angor regards him silently.Then, he stomps past to the car.

Knowing his living companion will be occupied for the next few hours, Walter goes to his library and holes himself up there.Not even a bad argument would cause him to abandon his books.He would much sooner steal them in the dead of night or kick Angor off the property, which he _can_ do since it’s _his_ name on all the paperwork.

Although, to be fair, it was preposterous to assume Angor would yield to human law enforcement anyway.The very thought made Walter chortle to himself as he turned the page of his current book.

A shadow with horns blocks out the overhead light.Walter looks up.“Do you need something?”He asks Angor coldly.

“The cats are settling in.You didn’t give me an answer earlier.I didn’t think you’d return.”

Walter chuckles.Both of them can hear the falseness in its tones.“Well, you see, you didn’t ask me a question.”

Angor huffs.“ _Why_ did you return?”

“This is my home as much as it is yours, Angor.Perhaps even more so considering I pay all the bills.”Walter meets his gaze.“Something as petty as our small argument would not cause me to abandon it so easily.”

“ _I_ did not consider that fight _small_ , Stricklander.”

“Oh?What do you consider it, that being the case?”

Angor inspects him.Walter can see that he’s thinking, considering, but what _exactly_ Angor Rot is ruminating on isn’t something he can easily interpret.He’s learned a few of the troll (former) assassin’s tells, but not all of them.

Angor drops a thick book down on top the one Walter’s reading.“You gave me your oath that you’d teach me to understand human writing, it is time you upheld that oath.This book holds knowledge I need to help the cat _you_ brought in.You will help me understand it.”

“Very well.”Walter puts his own reading material down on the table next to him.“But the kitchen has better lighting and I believe all our notes are still by the toaster.”

With the exception of the times Angor has to go and tend to their animal guests, the rest of the day is spent in the kitchen.Neither Walter nor Angor Rot says much to each other that doesn’t have to do with the objective at hand, but the tension in the air releases.

It takes them three days to talk about the argument and then it’s more of an exchange of ‘I said things I now regret, but I will not openly apologize until you do first and since you aren’t I’m not’ on both their parts.

However, Walter continues to go out and find strays that need a good home, as well as veterinary texts for Angor, and Angor continues to quietly keep their living space clean and provide an ancient troll tome from somewhere every now and again.

Neither acts outwardly affectionate toward the other, but both know what the other likes and doesn’t like and is considerate of that.

For now, that’s enough.


	2. Injured Wing

“I told you, _hold still_.”

“I _am_.”

The way the muscles around the wing’s socket tense and flex says otherwise.Angor Rot growls.He likes being in this situation as much as his patient, which is to say, not in the slightest.A part of him itches to just _grab_ the wing and make it stay still long enough for him to realign the bone, but if he’s too rough, that could worsen the break.It isn’t the worst Angor’s seen, or _caused_ , but, without treatment, there’s potential for things to get truly bad.

“I _will_ knock you out if you do not cease this twitching,” Angor threatens.“Your wing will not heal properly if I don’t apply the splint correctly.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”Stricklander twists his head around to glare with one gleaming, yellow eye.His other remains hidden under his hair, which has fallen in a messy heap all over his head rather than being in its usual, perfectly groomed position.Stricklander looks almost feral.If Angor were a human, he supposes he’d be afraid, but he’s himself, so he’s just frustrated.

Angor runs his hand over the wing again, making his way to the injury.“No.I will _not_ take care of you longer than I must.I am only doing this much, as you need to be able to fulfill your end of our deal.Which, you cannot do if you cannot _fly_.”

“Pity, and here I thought you were beginning to like me.”

“Stay _still_ ,” Angor commands.“I will not ask again.”

Stricklander obeys.Angor goes about his work.He’s worked on bats before.Stricklander isn’t much different from them.He just lacks the basic, _nice_ personality of the average bat.

Angor examines his work after he finishes.“Don’t strain yourself and you’ll heal.”

Stricklander sits up and examines his wing himself.“I’m sure.”He looks at Angor.“This does not mean I’m in your debt.”

Angor grunts.He grabs his medical kit and heads off toward the barn, where much more deserving patients wait.

Of course, he’ll be back in an hour to ensure Stricklander is indeed resting, but why tell _him_ that?


	3. Pumpkins & Puppies

Angor Rot growls a warning.The puppies he’s shielding with his body whine pitifully behind him.He reaches back into the bush they’re all hiding in and strokes them.He knows he’s not the most reassuring presence, but he’s all they have between them and their attackers and the animals know it.

“If you’re such a big, strong troll guy, why don’t you come out and fight us, huh?”One of the teenagers swings a bat around casually, like he wouldn’t take a whack at the first living creature that caught his eye.

Angor doesn’t move.He waits.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”The bat-carrying ringleader snickers.“You’re not really all that strong, are you?Can’t even take all of us in a fight.”He gestures back to his few gathered friends, who keep further back.

In reality, Angor could cut the lot of them down in under a minute, but the human authorities wouldn’t look kindly on that sort of thing.It wouldn’t matter to them that he would be defending himself (and his charges).Angor is a scary-looking troll and they are weak humans.He’d loose more than just the sanctuary he’d begun to call his home if he engaged in this fight.

Angor would not let freedom slip through his grasp.Not like this.Not for _them_.

Back when Angor led his tribe, he’d dealt with such foolishness.These fleshbag whelps would either grow out of their ways or, eventually, they’d get what’s coming to them.Tonight, all he has to do is wait out their interest.It won’t take long.Youth are notorious for their short attention spans.

Something large whistles by in the night sky above.The wind follows, blowing an unexpected current through the teenagers’ ranks.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know!”

“Should we go?Let’s go.I think we should go.”

“NO!Everybody shut it!”The ringleader yells.He points to Angor’s hiding bush.“He’s just doing some stupid magic trick to freak us out,” he snaps.His head spins around to face his group.“Are we going to let him?”

“No…” the other teenagers halfheartedly chorus.

“I said, _are we going to let him_?!”

“No,” came the slightly more enthusiastic response.

Angor snickers.So, even his followers don’t like this particular leader very much.

“That’s what I thought.”The ringleader turns back toward the bush.“Now, as for you—”

Plop.Splat.Plop.Splat.Plop.SPLAT!

In a carefully planned and executed circle, numerous somethings drop out of the sky and explode down around the teenagers.They jump.Their eyes, and Angor’s, fix themselves upon the gooey remains of whatever the somethings were.Only Angor, with his heightened troll vision in the dark, can see the pumpkin remains for what they are.

The teenagers don’t see Angor roll his eyes, but the one flying around above them all figures that’s what he’s probably doing.

“I’m out of here, man.”The first teenager bails.Seeing an out, the others follow him.

The ringleader huffs.He opens his mouth to yell— _command_ —them back.

WHOOSH— _SPLAT_!

The largest pumpkin splatters in front of the ringleader.He yelps, and then takes off running.

Once they’re gone, Angor extricates himself from the bush.He bends down and pulls the puppies out—in total, there’s five of them—out one by one.

“You followed me?”He growls when he hears the tell-tale sound of clicking claws against the pavement.

Strickler shrugs.“I was in the neighborhood.”

“This neighborhood is nowhere near the places you frequently go to, Stricklander.”Angor hands off the first of the puppies.

Strickler takes the animal, expertly wipes it down with a towel, and places it in his crate, which still smells like pumpkins.“You don’t know everything about me, or where I go.”He pauses.“And, what exactly do you think I would do without you?I have neither the knowledge or the interest to learn all the veterinary skills needed to tend to our charges.”He grumbles.“You really must stop going off in the middle of the night on your own like this.”

“I wouldn’t have, but a new report came in on the ‘webpage’ _you’re_ supposed to be taking care of.”It suits Angor better to make a jab than to admit he’d found his changeling asleep as his computer device, and determined to let him slumber while he himself investigated.

“Regardless, I parked the truck over there.”Strickler gestures, dismissing the conversation.“Because unlike _some_ , _I_ think ahead.”

Angor decides not to make a comment about how he can walk great distances without tiring.He knows if he does Strickler will “suggest” that’s how he should get home, and then all opportunities to give his changeling even more of a hard time during the ride back would be gone.


	4. Bandaging

“Come here, let me fix it.”It’s an order, not a request, that comes out of Angor Rot’s mouth.

Strickler looks up long enough for a large drop of his blood to gather and fall from his arm onto the floor.He blinks, and goes back to unsuccessfully bandaging his arm.He grimaces, but says, “I require no assistance from you,” anyway.

Angor sighs.He glances forlornly at his laptop and his studies.His online veterinary class has a test coming up in a couple days.He’s still adjusting to all the new terminology they use.Ensuring he has the right knowledge for his wards is important.However, he can’t just let Stricklander bleed out all over the floor.Who would tend to their monetary needs then?Angor has enough to learn without adding ‘modern human financial customs’ to the mix.

He stands, strides over to Strickler, forcibly takes the gauze roll from the changeling’s good hand, sits down in the chair next to him, and takes over the bandaging process.

“I said I don’t need—”

“You will be conscious to clean your blood off the floor when I’m done,” Angor growls.He inspects the wound.Two cuts.Not deep, but one hit a vein.Hence, all the blood.He applies pressure to stem its flowing.“Was there poison involved in this?” He asks.For the first time, his voice takes a rare softer tone.

Though Arcadia itself adjusted to the presence of trolls, the two of them live outside the city limits.Some of their neighbors got used to them.Others did not.The trolls who made their dwellings in the nearby mountains fall into the second category and, in Angor’s opinion, would have an easiest time acquiring poison.

Strickler scoffs.“As if _I’d_ be so careless as to allow myself to be—”

“If there _is_ poison in this wound, I’ll need to treat it with one of the antidotes before bandaging it.”Angor glares.Strickler’s attempts to conceal his weakness will do nothing but extend the length of time before they’re finished.

“Yes,” Strickler grumbles.

Angor nods curtly, retrieves his antidote collection, and continues his work.Strickler doesn’t meet his gaze.He won’t say anything more until the process is done, Angor knows this.The changeling hates moments like these.Hates showing vulnerability.As if all his puffing out his chest and prancing about are actual shows of strength.Ha!

Not that Strickler isn’t competent in a fight.He has his edges.Sharp enough to brutally maim, or kill when necessary.But, the way he goes about it reminds Angor of a tall, green, featherless peacock.One that refuses to stop displaying itself despite having nothing to display.

Angor hates it.He’s accustomed to it, and he prefers it to the company of literally anyone else, but, he still _hates_ it.

“There.”He finishes wrapping the gauze around Strickler’s arm.“Go rest.”He gestures to the doorway into the den, where a comfy, if covered in hair from a wild assortment of animals, couch awaits.

“The floor?”Strickler flexes the fingers of his bad arm, and tries making a fist.He winces.

“You have your orders.You would do well to _obey_ them.”Could commanding Strickler rile him up?Yes.Could Angor resist it?No, not in the slightest.It felt too nice.

Strickler listens, and goes to lie down.

Angor makes swift work of wiping down the floor, and then returns to his studies.


	5. Caramel Apple

“Sorry?” The teenager glances back and forth between Strickler and Angor Rot from behind his large glasses.

Strickler wonders if he’s going to have a panic attack. He may not be on particular speaking terms with the only doctor he knows, but he decides, in that moment, she probably won’t hold it against him for calling if a medical emergency were to occur.

“This is the last one,” the teenager goes on, while gesturing to the caramel apple on a stick resting innocently on the booth between himself and the trolls. “And we’re out of apples, so I can’t really make more? I mean, I wish I could cause you both deserve your own treats. Definitely, so deserving. But, like, I can’t do anything about that so—” he finishes in a barely audible whisper, “—Please don’t take it out on me?”

Strickler takes out a couple dollars from his wallet and passes them over to the teenager. “That’s perfectly all right. We are more than capable of sharing.” The second statement is said more to Angor Rot, and in a tone known between the two of them as a warning.

“Of course you are. Ha! Silly of me for assuming otherwise.”

Strickler gives a small, polite smile, takes the caramel apple, and begins to walk away. He pretends not to notice the teenager heaving a massive, relieved sigh at their departure.

“I fail to see how _that_ was worth _that_.” Angor gestures to the caramel apple. He scowls. “It would have been more suitable to find a vendor who does not look upon us with such fear in his eyes.”

Strickler removes a blade from his cape. “Look around, Angor, the carnival is slowly closing. I didn’t like the interaction either, but he was our only option for a truly delicioussnack.” Carefully, Strickler slices the caramel apple in half. “And, these have always been a favorite of mine.” He offers one half of the apple to Angor. “To be truthful, I was looking forward to introducing you to the treat.”

Angor swipes the offered apple half and shoves it unceremoniously in his mouth. He audibly crunches. He swallows. “I will concede to the point of the treat. It is…nice.” His eyes hastily find the distraction of the ferris wheel. “We have enough of those tickets for another ride.”

“Of course.”

Strickler doesn’t add that he knows how much Angor likes looking up at the stars and he certainly isn’t about to confess he’s planning on bribing the person running the ride to let them stay up there for a little extra time.


End file.
